


Drawings

by loogandthemaidenofwind



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, artist written by someone whos bad at art, callum having Deep Thoughts, fluff mixed with some angst, idk - Freeform, mentions bait and ez and zym, might hate it later, mostly romantic ones, so sorry if i get stuff wrong, wrote this in one sitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28084911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loogandthemaidenofwind/pseuds/loogandthemaidenofwind
Summary: As they wait the night in the cave, Callum thinks and draws.(takes place before Fire and Fury. i just wanted to write some things callum might've been thinking)
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	Drawings

Pencil on paper. Light little lines marking the first sketch. Darker ones traced over that made the second draft. Erasing and tracing that finalized the piece.

Callum couldn’t get her out of his head.

He supposed he had bigger things to worry about. Getting to Xadia, keeping Zym and Ezran safe, trying to connect to the sky arcanum. It was so stressful. All he could do to keep himself sane was draw, and draw, and draw.

And whenever he touched pencil to paper, it was her that he thought of.

They’d been traveling together for maybe a week or two, and yet Callum felt like he was so connected to her. He had her silvery hair and her button nose and her purple markings under her eye (almost like teardrops) memorized. At any time, he could recall her laughter, her frowns, her playful teasing. Her bright smile. Her tear-streaked face.

They all resurfaced on the page.

He never really showed anyone his art, much less her. It was something that belonged to him, something close to his heart, something he clutched and treasured. And yet, it belonged to others too- to his mother who taught him, to his stepfather who got him his sketchbook, to Ezran who always asked him to draw something for him (mostly Bait). And now it belonged to her too, for she was a source of inspiration, appearing on the page again and again and again.

Rayla.

 _Rayla, Rayla, Rayla_. The name danced in his mind. She made him smile, she made him laugh, she made him feel so many things at once that he didn’t know where to begin.

It almost scared him; how someone who had been in his life for such a short time could make him feel so much. But time didn’t seem to matter when it was just him and Rayla.

For some reason, his mind drifted to Claudia. The girl he was in love with for years upon years. But thinking about her now just didn’t feel the same. Those memories were tinged with sadness, and betrayal, and hurt. Besides… she wasn’t Rayla.

He glanced over at her. She was sleeping on the cave floor, a few feet away from Ezran and Zym and Bait. She looked much calmer when she was asleep, all worries and stress and feelings of the day faded away.

Callum wished he could see her like that more often. He knew she was just as stressed (possibly more so) as he was.

But he quickly turned away, mentally scolding himself. _You can’t watch people while they’re sleeping, Callum. That’s so creepy!_

He turned back to his sketchbook, idly flipping through well-worn pages. There it was- that same face, over and over. Rayla, Rayla, Rayla.

It was probably fruitless to have thoughts like these ones. But Callum couldn’t help but imagine a future with her in it. Maybe… maybe admitting how he felt about her. How he admired her courage, her bravery, her willingness to do the right thing. How she always knew what to do to make him laugh or smile or feel happy. How she amazed him- how she was so smart, and fast, and beautiful. She was the most amazing person Callum had ever met.

Like he said- fruitless. But Callum let himself soak in those thoughts for a while, let them wash over him and take him away into his own mind.

He wondered what his mother would say about this. His mother- so caring and strong willed- who was no longer here. He was sure she’d like Rayla, and would encourage him to tell her how he felt. And then make a snarky comment about _Lady Justice_ and _not wearing any robes_ or something like that.

Callum smiled at the memory. That was his mother- courageous, sarcastic, and his biggest hero.

“Callum?” a groggy voice asked, and he nearly jumped out of his own skin. Rayla was up, stretching from a night on the cave floor. “What’re ya doin up?”

Even her brash-sounding accent was endearing.

Callum hastily shut his sketchbook before she could see all his drawings. “Just keeping watch. Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

Rayla sat next to him, looking almost dead on her feet. “Ugh, I don’t blame ya. That cave floor is so uncomfortable.”

“Too uncomfortable for a hardened assassin?” he joked.

“Assassins have standards,” she returned playfully, and they shared a quiet laugh as not to wake the boys (well, boy, dragon, and a grumpy glow-toad). “I’m still so tired though.”

“We’ve got some hours before sunrise. You can sleep.”

“Ookay,” she yawned. “You should try’n sleep too.”

“Maybe later.” Callum watched as Rayla went back to her spot on the cave floor, curling up to be as comfortable as she could. “Sleep well.”

“Mhm,” Rayla mumbled, already in dreamland. He smiled at her one before turning back to his sketchbook, flipping through all his drawings and doodles before finding a blank page.

Pencil on paper. Rayla, Rayla, Rayla. Silvery hair, button nose, purple markings under her eyes that almost looked like teardrops. Light little lines marking the first sketch. Rayla. Her laughter, her frowns, her playful teasing. Darker ones traced over that made the second draft. Bright smile. Tear-streaked face. Her courage, her bravery, her willingness to do the right thing. Erasing and tracing that finalized the piece.

_She was the most amazing person Callum had ever met._

Callum couldn’t get her out of his head. Did he really want to get her out of his head?

His thoughts culminated on the page, mixing and changing to form her. To form Rayla. Her eyes, her smile, her hair. Her fast form flitting through the trees. Her laughing face at something someone may have said (but to be honest, Callum had envisioned himself as that someone when he drew it). Her strong stance, twin blades in hand, ready to attack or defend.

He closed the sketchbook, clutching it to his heart like the day he first got it. It had seen him through ten years of his life, and it might last long enough to see him through more. He wondered what he would draw on the last page.

In his heart, though, he had a pretty good idea of what- or rather, who- it would be.

_Rayla, Rayla, Rayla._

He'd always be thinking about her. 


End file.
